The Losing
by HorseJumper
Summary: Elsa has lost everything over the course of her life. The events in the ballroom led Anna to forget about her. Her mother, murdered by her father, and the king blames Elsa for the tragedy. Tortured, brutalized, and completely unloved, Elsa believes she has finally lost everything when her father sells her into the marriage of a prince from a neighboring kingdom. Mention of rape.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

* * *

 **The Kingdom of Arendelle 1845**

* * *

 _The night rushed around the royal family_ as they galloped into the night. The events following the morning had taken Elsa into a place she never wanted to be again. Her father often called it her "Ice Box". She'd only ever been there once, when she was little and she'd thrown a major tantrum, covering the room in ice. After that, her magic would be impossible to control, unruly and untamable as the wind. This night was much like that. As the little princess watched her family gallop away into the night, seeking help and solace from the rocks in the valleys, she replayed in her mind what had happened.

It had been innocent, _fun_ , Anna had woken her up even earlier then usual.

"The skies awake, so Im awake, so we have to play!"

She had claimed, and Elsa couldn't blame her, the northern lights were fascinating, but at three in the morning, not so much. And Elsa had almost gotten rid of Anna when she'd asked to play the one game that Elsa couldn't refuse, snowman building.

They had rushed downstairs, trying to keep quiet, and into the main ballroom, with windows high enough to reach the northern lights, or so Anna claimed. They played all their favorite games, fort building, iceskating, Olaf building, sliding down ice slides, and finally they came to Annas favorite. She called it _tickle bumps._ A game where Elsa would conjure up mounds of snow with her magic, each time going a little higher, a little faster. But Anna had been getting too good.

As the princess had tried to keep up with her sister, she'd lost her balance, falling to the ground. She cried out for her sister to slow down, but it was too late, Anna had already jumped. Elsa hastily fired a ball of snow, trying to get something soft underneath her falling sister, but instead, the snowball had hit her sister in the face, knocking her out as she tumbled to the ground.

"Mama! Papa!" Elsa had screamed, crying already, fearing the worst. She heard the banging on the door minutes later as her parents tried to get through the frozen wood. _What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?_ Elsa rocked Anna back and forth in her arms as the dream world around them fell to dust. Her parents finally broke through the doors and came running.

"Elsa what have you done?!" Her father cried, Elsa couldn't say anything as she handed Anna off to her mother," This is getting out of hand," He said

"She's ice cold," Her mother had said, her face turning white in fear.

"I know where we have to go." The king had announced," Stay here, Ill be right back."

"Mama! Im so sorry, I didn't mean it, this is all my fault!" Elsa cried, looking at her sisters unmoving form.

"No Elsa," Her mom cooed," Shhh, snowflake, its ok, its all going to be ok." She moved Anna over so that her other daughter could crawl into her lap.

"No its not! Papas going to hit me! He's mad, remember last time?!" Elsa cried hysterically, recalling the last time her powers had gotten out of hand. Thankfully, she hadn't gotten lost in the Ice Box then.

"No my princess, it'll be alright, Ill protect you." Elsa had clung to those words as her father had thrown her into her room and locked the door behind him.

Now, looking out upon the night, she could almost see what a terrible future lie in wait.

* * *

 **The Forests of Arendelle**

* * *

 _The horses slowed to a stop as the royals neared the valley._ The parents jumped off and tied their uneasy horses up, in the distance, wolves could be heard howling, and not even the hasty gait of the two could quench their fear of being in the open. They stopped in the center of a big valley, surrounded by boulders and rocks.

"Please! Help! Its my daughter!" The king called out, and as the words left his mouth, the rocks rolled and shifted, revealing the faces of trolls clad in moss and grasses.

"Its the king!" A steady wave of awe passed through the crowd, followed by a reverential silence. A path cleared in the center of the crowd, and in it rolled a stone, it popped up into a boulder with a big mass of hair, and eyes that seemed to hold the answers to everything.

"There is strange magic here." He said, peering down at Annas figure, he lifted his head into the air." Where is the cryomancer?"

"My other daughter?" The queen corrected, but with a question in her tone. The troll gave a solemn nod, and took the queens question as a yes.

"Listen here, Your Majesties." He beckoned them closer, projecting an image into the sky of a blue woman swirling beautiful magic with a crowd of people staring adoringly," Your daughter has great power. But with it comes great responsibility. If she cannot control it, there will be chaos." The image suddenly blurred, the image transformed and the crowd suddenly turned inward, jumping in on the blue girl, the picture vanished with the queens horrified gasp.

"She can learn to control it Im sure," The king said confidently," Do what you must to save her." He nodded to the red head in the Queens arms.

"I recommend we remove the memory of the cryomancer from her mind altogether." He said, swirling pictures of memories of Anna and Elsa playing together, laughing, crying, and made them disappear.

"She won't remember Elsa?" The queen asked, stepping forward, her husband put a hand on her shoulder.

"Its for the best." He said, trying to sound reassuring

"His majesty is right," The troll agreed," Overtime the girl would begin to see her sister the way she had before this... incident, the physical borders blocking out the memories would be pushed, it would cause her physical pain, do you want that?"

"Of course not," The queen said, cross," But..."

"Aidya," The king cut in, firm this time," Its for the best." He repeated the words, a dark shadow crossing his face.

"What will we tell Elsa?" Aidya pulled her now smiling daughter close, fear poisoning her words.

The king rose," Anna didn't make it, we couldn't save her."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

 **Just a warning... for my standards, this chapter might be a little graphic and disturbing with the intro of a brand new character... and I will also say that it gets worse before it gets better. To elaborate, the beginning of the next chapter deals with an intense concept, and a disturbing solution, but after that, we will only have to deal with the after effects... If you chose to read, enjoy!**

 **The Kingdom of Arendelle 1850**

* * *

 _Elsa began to look forward_ to her time alone in the evenings. Darkness surrounded her all day, it was often that when she came in to the room of herself and her late sister Anna, that she could find solace. In the years before, she couldn't sleep in this room, she couldn't even look at it, not without remembering the sin she had committed. But these days, the days after she had turned 11, 12, and finally 13, Elsa found that she could feel Annas presence everywhere. Sometimes she even thought she heard Annas voice, and thought _I must be raving mad,_ but it didn't matter, if she had some part of her sister, even if it was just the ghost of her presence, it was enough.

In the days after Annas death, Elsa was left to suffer alone. For reasons not unknown, not even her mother could look at Elsa. Her father wouldn't even spare her his usual drunken king glances. Of late, those glances had become increasingly lingering, and Elsa would try her best to avoid her father. But when her sister had died, _been killed,_ Elsa had been alone, she was left to discover secret passages and visit Annas favorite places. She would go to them often, and she would cry for the loss of her sister and the rift it caused between her family.

Now, with her powers becoming increasingly dangerous, her once warm room was half of the time covered in a layer of frost, family dinners were few and far in between, and the halls of the castle seemed to be coming alive in the silence. The only public event Elsa ever attended was church, and even then, she was only allowed to go every other week. She could sense that her father was losing himself, no matter how much her mother insisted otherwise. Elsa had been groomed in how to speak and in some of the simpler politics and trade agreements of her country, but she didn't need to be schooled in the art of ones emotions. She could see fear in her mothers eyes and in the way she always wore long sleeves and high backed dresses to hide her bruises.

But it wasn't until the night she truly lost everything that she saw how mad her father really was.

It was late, maybe midnight in the castle, Elsa had eaten dinner with the maids in the kitchen as she often did so as not to be alone. Darkness had brought its usual wave of silence, and Elsa was dressed in her nightgown when her other came in. She was also in her night attire, a haunting blue color that brought out the lightness in her eyes. Elsa was often told by her that their eyes were a gift from the sea, that God had granted them special eyes that were able to see the good in people. She thought of Anna in moments like that, how her eyes truly had been kind and innocent. Elsa knew her mother wasn't telling the truth then, as she often did when it came to matters of family and the heart. Elsa had always known that her eyes were icy and steely, burning cold and staring. But she couldn't help but smile when her mother praised her so.

She had brushed the young princesses long her after taking it out of its elaborate pinup. Elsa had closed her eyes and committed the moment to memory. Her mothers fingers were long and soft, combing through Elsa's hair delicately. When her father was given this task, her would rip the pins out violently, pulling at them in places she couldn't reach, howling unsavory words all the while, and eventually, he would thrust the brush at Elsa and tell her to do it her damn self.

Elsa didn't need her mothers help anymore, but she welcomed it all the while. After her hair was done, the queen and the princess had gone over to the bed, where Elsa was tucked in, for which she felt embarrassed of, because of her age. But her mother just pretended to be offended, and continued her job.

"I love you, Elsa," She said, placing a kiss on her forehead. Elsa was just about to reply when she heard the sound of someone stumblingt a couple rooms over. The king was yelling for his queen using highly offensive words. A tight smile replaced the joyous one on the queens face. She wanted to ask why her mother didn't fight back, or why she let him hurt her at all. But the princess swallowed those words. She had learned not to ask questions a long time ago. Suffering in silence was the way Elsa had learned, and though she wasn't hit as often, she knew the fear her mother was feeling, and it left a sick taste in her mouth.

Her mother leaned over and tucked a stray hair behind Elsa's ear, she placed one more kiss, this time on her cheek, and murmured words against her cheek, that later were locked away in her mind.

 _"All you have is your heart, snowflake, don't let anyone take it from you."_

* * *

Elsa had tried to sleep after that, but the noise was too much. Her mother had warned her never to come into a room this late if her father was there, but Elsa got out of bed anyways. She had always known her father was capable of anything, and though no one was ever told, Elsa knew it wasn't an assassin who killed her mother that night.

* * *

Elsa discovered her father on the floor of the room, crying over her mothers body. Elsa remembered her terror and grief in that moment, it was nothing like she had ever experienced. And the sight of her mothers body, mangled, bruised, _unmoving_ , it would never be forgotten. Elsa rushed back to her room, afraid of what would happen if her father saw her. She felt brief reassurance in his humanity in the fact that he was crying, but Elsa soon realized it was a show, a show for the guards and the kingdom, and mere minutes later, as she was dragged from her chambers, Elsa.

No pain was so great of that as standing in front of her father knowing that he had killed her mother. But he didn't seem to know she knew. And as an emergency meeting of the capitol was called, Elsa heard what the cover was. An assassin, a rogue, one conveniently with no apparent ties to any country, had taken the queens life. But no, Elsa thought, that is what happened. It has to be.

* * *

As night turned into day, and so on and so on, Elsa discovered that she would not be permitted to attend her mothers funeral. Her father hadnt even been the one who told her. It was her maid, Gurda. But Elsa hadnt gone to her father to confront him, she knew no minds would be changed, only hearts further broken. It was his cruel and sick twisted mind that had concocted up the idea that it was the little princesses fault that the queen had died. The king never spared Elsa those damaging words when they were alone, scolding her as if it was something she could control.

Her powers were worst in those days, and though she never slipped in the Ice Box, she felt as if she was constantly a threat to everyone around her. Annas presence, her only comfort, seemed to disappear almost completely then. The hallways were crawling with ghosts, but Elsa had never felt so alone. Her father refused to take Elsa to church, saying that a demon should not be allowed in a temple of God, and as the months moved on, it became harder not to spit the same thing back in his face.

Meals then became mandatory, though Elsa knew not why he bothered. They had lost half of their family, if it could even be called a family anymore, Elsa often wondered. The king would eat his dinner and drink his wine while Elsa picked at her gourmet meal. After which they would practice tirelessly with Elsa's powers. In the days before the accident with Anna, they had had similar lessons.

"Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show."

Had been a phrase that was often used. Now those words were replaced with exclamation points and cruel edges as sharp as swords. Long story short, Elsa received no praise for her efforts, as nothing changed. But the lessons persisted all the same. They persisted until Elsa was on the verge of tears and the king was screaming at her that if she could control it, her mother and her sister wouldn't be dead.

It was on an eve like any other. Steak and some soup had been served along with wine and a glass of water for Elsa. Two additional bottles of red sat between the father and daughter, blocking each others view. Elsa was cutting a piece of steak when the king spoke, his plate already empty.

"Have you learned to control it?" He asked, venom and regret making his voice sound edgy

"I can try, father." Elsa said, and the king set his jaw. She pushed back her chair and stood as the king poured some more wine into his glass. She conjured up a ball of snow in her hands effortlessly, the easy part. She flicked off her mind, wishing her powers to do the same.

"Now turn it off," the king impeded impatiently

"Yes father," Elsa told her mind to shut it off. Closing her eyes as she was eclipsed with the image of Anna stuck by her powers, ice covering their room, swirling around in her brain because for the love of God she just couldn't control it.

"Control it, Elsa," His voice was a warning now, pushing Elsa closer to the edge. The ball grew bigger, bluer. The king noticed," Control it!"

"Im trying!" Elsa yelled, and the ball flashed off, for a second the king sat silent, shocked. But it was too late, now the temperature had dropped. The snow began to plaster to the wall in sharp and jagged designs.

"THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED WITH YOUR SISTER!" The king roared, jumping to his feet, having had enough.

"Stop it!" Elsa shrieked, covering her ears. But she wasn't yelling at her dad, she was yelling at the magic inside of her head. Her father took it the wrong way. He backhanded her across the face, and with a yelp of pain and surprise, Elsa was tossed to the ground. Now snow was roaring around them, the steel door the only thing keeping the sound in.

"ANNA, YOUR MOTHER, THEYRE DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!" He yelled, steaming, but Elsa was shaking her head.

"MOM IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!" Elsa screamed right back up at him. Clutching her cheek, the ice burning her skin, everything stopped. The king had the decency to look hurt, but it didn't last long. A long and coming dawning happened in his eyes.

"What did you say?" He whispered, his voice cold steel, and somehow, it was more terrifying then his screaming. Elsa looked at the ground, saying nothing," What did you say?" He repeated

"Nothing father." Elsa said as respectfully as possible. But he had heard, and she knew it.

"Get up." He growled, and when Elsa began to, he grabbed her arm, and Elsa gasped in pain, but he just drug her to her feet and pulled her down the hallway, all the way to her room.

"What are you doing?!" She yelled after him as he threw her on the bed and stalked out of the room. The click of the lock confirmed nothing.

* * *

Elsa knew not what to expect when her father came back. He might be acting like a lunatic, or a drunk stumbling through curse words, or a drunk forcing his hands on his own daughters body, or he might still have been red with anger. Elsa had no idea which would be best, for she had experienced them all.

But what came back into her room was something she had never seen on his face before. Maybe it was regret, the way it looked on his face, pitiful, unforgiving, maybe it was silence in anger, ready to snap. Or maybe it was the man who followed in after him that explained everything.

"Father, whats going on?" She asked, stepping away from the chair in her room, and heading towards the window. The man, from what she had seen, was tall and skinny, his black hair traveling to his shoulders, greasy and unkept. He wore a red, soft looking robe that went to his feet, she supposed it had once been nice, now it was ripped and covered in dirt. Where his back hunched over, he carried a brown leather bag, when he moved forward, metal clanked inside of it.

"Elsa, dear," The King said, smiling pleasurably," Come meet Mister Dmitri Slash."

Elsa took a deep breath and paced towards the man like she had been taught.

"Your Majesty," His voice was rough and intruding, his blue eyes too sinister," Call me Slash." He grabbed her hand, his own leathery and beat up, covered in some sort of wetness. He brought his lips to the outside of her hand and Elsa couldn't express her repulsion. Though it was something fierce.

"Charmed," Elsa grimaced, and his wicked grin only grew.

"Elsa," The kings voice was a warning," Slash here is a very advanced necromancer." Elsa inclined her head, wondering if she was supposed to know what that was.

"I practice black magic, princess." He obliged, surely proud of himself in some twisted way. Elsa's shock was plain on her face.

"Black magic? Thats a crime against God, you'll burn for it." She said, not exactly regretful, but wondering why her father would bring someone like this here.

"Many could say the same for you, Elsa." Slash said her name like it was something sweet, and Elsa struggled to understand what was happening.

"Whats going on, father?" She said, wondering why he would be so blatantly disrespectful with the use of her first name. That would imply an intimacy that Elsa wanted to make sure would never be.

"He's your... therapist." Her father tasted the word on his tongue and continued," He's going to help you control your curse."

"Can I talk to you please father, alone?" She added, quieter, even though the man with long claw like fingernails could hear. His yellow teeth formed a smile.

"Decidedly not. You'll miss your carriage if you don't get going."

"Carriage?" Elsa heart picked up, and the temperature dropped

"Oh dear," Slash shook his head

"Father is that really necessary?"

"Afraid so, your magic has gotten too dangerous to be here without control. Slash will be taking care of you for a while. Until you get better at least."

"You expect me to be with him alone?" I said, not caring of prying ears.

"Not to worry, Elsa, Im a complete gentleman."

"Father." Elsa said, trying to communicate to him without being rude.

"I am not discussing this, you will leave now with your dignity, Elsa." His voice suggested that there was no other option.

"Yes, father." Elsa bowed her head," May I have time to pack my things?"

The king looked to Slash as if they were sharing a private thought," There is not time, your majesty."

The king then looked to Elsa like 'what are you gonna do?', and shook his head as if to say, don't argue.

"What will I wear then?"

"Oh, what you have on is just fine," Slash glanced down along with Elsa, she was wearing a shite lacey nightgown, since it was made to sleep in only, it was slightly transparent. Elsa crossed her arms over her chest. Once again, his disturbing smile only grew.

* * *

My father left us then. And Slash lead me through many corridors, all of which familiar to me. These corridors were often subject to my games with Anna when we were younger. Fear bubbled inside me, however, when I realized that we were heading to the back exit.

"Not to worry, Elsa," His voice was trying to be soothing, but he only succeeded in scaring me more.

"Wheres my father?" I asked, as we emerged into the daylight. _Where are the_ _gaurds?_

Under the cover of trees, sat a black carriage with an old gray horse snoozing off at the front. The carriage was small and clearly meant for only a couple people. Slash opened the door.

"In you go." He said, pushing me up, he stalked to the front and grabbed the reins, stepping into the drivers seat. The sun was setting, and confusion was setting in. _Where are we going?_

When we set off, the ground seemed to fly underneath me. After only a few minutes, we veered off the main road and shambled into darkness. These woods were unfamiliar to me, and I couldn't help but miss the palace, even if the coldness inside was almost as bad as it was out here.

"Where almost there, my darling," The man called through the wind. I could feel that something was off, so I stuck my head out the window. Outside, woods surrounded us, and verged in front of us and behind us. The darkness of them was alarming. Up ahead, a small cottage appeared, blue smoke rose from the chimney, it was in shambles. The house was wooden, and dilapidated, my room was bigger. Displeasure coursed through the fear in my veins.

 _What is this_ _place?_

In front of me, Slash slammed on the breaks, and the horse reared back, neighing and stomping the ground. Slash gave it a good whipping until blood was dripping from its wither and my heart ached.

"Come along," He grumbled, motioning for me to follow him. He drew a long key from his robe a bent down to unlock the door, five more locks later, and the door swung open into darkness. Slash pulled out a candle and pushed me in impatiently. As the room lit up, terror jolted through my body, wind picked up and the room cooled.

"We'll have to fix that, now won't we?" Slash announced, he looked around along with me.

The room around me was dank and smelled of metal and... and blood. Knives hung from the ceiling, and the windowless room was dark in all corners. On the wall hung many pairs of chains, as well as sets hanging from the roof and longer ones coming from the floor. In the right corner closest to the door was a steel wooden table covered in a dried black substance. Fear terrorized every inch of my body.

 _This is a torture chamber._

I had never been in one, but I'd heard of them. Horrid places where men are punished cruelly for their sins. I know what my sin is, but do I deserve this? I spin around, about to ask what he's going to do, beg him not to leave me in here.

Slash is gone.

* * *

 **1852**

* * *

Every day Slash comes to see me. At first, his visits aren't terrible, he uses harsh words and actions to try and get me to control my powers, much my like father, but it doesn't work. Pretty soon, Slash is threatening me with knives and scalpels and starving me for days at times. I still fail to control my powers.

The nights bring terrible nightmares of my father and I often wake up crying, feeling the loss of my sister and my mother as if they were new. The cell around me lacks any light except for that provided by the candle on the wall in the corner. All around me is blood and torture devices. I wonder how many have died in here before me. I wonder if my father knows where I am. I wonder if he cares.

In the first year, I learn what I assume is every possible form of torture. Slash chains me to the table very often, screaming and kicking, crying, begging for him to stop. But I know he takes pleasure from my pain. He pushes up my dress, putting a bloodstained knife against the skin of my thigh. The knife is cold, but nothing compared to the pain as he pierces my skin and drags the blade as slow as possible all the way to my knee. I could feel the blood spilling down my leg, and the way he strokes the inside of my leg as he moves the knife up again and starts over only inches from the other wound.

"Please stop!" I cry, trying desperately to break my bonds, ice spreading over the walls."Please!" I beg, unable to look at his sick face as he examines the blood on the knife.

"Elsa dear, this is for your own good." He whispers," God demands punishment for sins."

"I dont deserve this!" I scream as he moves to my stomach, he drags the blade all the way across, tearing open my skin, going as deep as he can without killing me. And when the pain becomes too much, my mind goes black.

One more dreadful year passes, and without seeing the light of day, doubting I ever will, I start to forget what I had before. Slash is relentless in his tortures, and though he comes less frequently, he makes up for it.

Slash, one night, steals into my cell silently, as I am praying to my dead mother to help me.

"Be careful making wishes in the dark, Elsa," A voice says from the shadows," Wouldn't want the wrong person to hear you." Slash warns, his presence turning my book cold. The cuffs binding my hands are bloodied by my attempts to escape. He still has blood on his face from where I drug my nails across it. He deserved it, and I feel no remorse, but I did receive a beating, kicking me in the stomach until I was coughing up blood.

"Wakey wakey, dear," He coaxes, his greasy hands stroking my shoulders. I jump, and back into the wall, trying to get myself away from him. My most recent cut has just stopped bleeding, and Slahs shakes his head at that." Thats not good," He says, he positions the knife above the cut on my left thigh.

"Noooooo!" I shreik, kicking away from him and watching in horror as he rounds on me.

"Hold still!" He roars, grabbing onto my and pulling my hair so that I have to bend over to avoid the pain." That was rude Elsa."

"Please no, please please please." I whisper over and over as his eyes glimmer with murderous joy. He puts a knee on my thigh and pushes up the leg of the pants he's given me, the knife reopens the cut without a sound, but my screams tear through the room and tell Slash of the pain.

"Hush my darling, you must no that I take no pleasure from this." But I can see the twinkling in his eyes, the way he hides his smile while he cuts me to pieces. Blood pours out of the cut and pools on the floor. The stinging it causes dizzies me, and as Slash stands, I bend over, crying out in pain.

"Remember Elsa," He grabs a different knife and holds it over the fire on the left wall as tears begin to spill from my eyes. "For everything you've done, these punishments are not enough. I am merciful." Finally he pulls the blade out, it is an angry red color, and the pounding of my heart beats in time to his footsteps as he comes over.

"Would you like to pick where I cut?" He asks demonically, his repulsive tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth, his eyes roaming over my body. I turn away, refusing to answer. There is a storm outside, and the rain patters on the roof. I focus on that noise as he pushes me down roughly and pushes my brown shirt up.

"Dont do this." I turn my head, tears streaming down my feet, the cuffs refuse to let my hands fall, so I slid down to the ground, unable to push him away. He bends down over me and puts the knife to my skin.

"You deserve to burn Elsa," He whispers against my skin, making me nauseated as his lips drag up my stomach," Oh how I would love to have you Elsa." He whispers, and just as I begin to struggle, he tightens his viper like grip," My darling, I wouldn't dare without the permission of your father." He sighs, and finally he pulls back, replacing the knife on my tortured skin, he drags it down my skin so torturously slow that Im sure I pass out and come back to consciousness before he's done. My skin feels like it is on fire, and Im sure my powers are going to lose control, when I feel the knife leave my skin.

"Look Elsa," He tells me," The wall." And sure enough, the snow on the wall that has been there for years, is fading away.

"Its working."

* * *

 **1855**

* * *

"Ive never met a heart that I can't break," Slash says, answering my earlier words that I still had my heart, if nothing else. He watches my hanging figure from below. For hours Ive been strung up like an animal. I know I can't last much longer though, hanging this way forces me to be hanging with my arms above my head, which for the most part cuts off my air flow. Every few minutes, I have to lift myself up to get some air, but my muscles won't anymore. I don't want them to anymore.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Slash asks, his hands on his hips, like he's punishing a puppy. His eyes travel to my wrists, which I sliced open earlier, hoping he wouldn't find me before I... you know. The blood has pooled to the floor and the one I made on my stomach is dripping down to the floor, pooling red below me. I nod as best I can. "Don't ever cut yourself again, or the punishment will be worse, understand?"

I nod again, and he walks forward, releasing my from the cuffs, I try to catch myself, but its no use, I fall to the floor, my back facing him, and I begin to cry.

"Pathetic," He says distastefully," Get up."

I don't move.

"GET UP."

I still don't move.

I hear his feet moving away. My win does not last as long as I would have wished, for I hear the sound whipping through the air too late, I don't have time to move. The slash cuts through the thick fabric on my back and I scream in pain. The whip has broken skin, and as he draws it back, he wipes blood off of it. The horrible pain it has caused makes my head ache, and I begin to stand when it cracks down again, knocking me back to the ground.

"Stooooppp!" I cry, reaching for the stinging of my back, he brings it down again anyway, this time catching my arm too. I cry out and jump back, scrambling away from him. "Get away from me! STAY AWAY!" I break down, sobbing and whispering it over and over. His smile triumphs while I cower.

"I was coming to tell you that I have a surprise," He says, chaining me to the wall while I continue to struggle. He backs away, admiring his work.

"Your fathers coming."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

 **Ok, you are warned once again. This chapter might even be worse then the last. Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **1856**

* * *

I have no idea when night starts and day ends. I have no coherent thoughts about my life before this. Sometimes I remember the good days. The days when Anna was alive and well, and playtime would last for hours. Or when my mother would laugh and tell me stories of a time when my father had been in love with her. Oh how I love to hate those memories. And as peculiar as it seems, the awful memories are the ones I keep closest to home. They remind me that even before Slash took me away, evil was always present. It was in the soul of my father and in the terrifying moments that we would be informed of an attack on the castle. We would cower in a room far below the walls of the castle. We would cower in fear of evils that wouldn't touch us those days.

But they would reach us eventually.

Mostly, though, I think about night turning into day. I miss the northern lights and the gorgeous sunrises and sunsets viewed through the stained glass windows of the castle. I remember the eclipsed shadows cast throughout my room. It is perhaps the only thing i miss of that life. Aside, of course, from the missing pieces of my family. Anna and my mother.

I try to force them out of my mind. I try to force myself to forget them, but they won't go away. They are the stars in my darkest nightmares and in my best dreams. I wonder where we would be if they hadn't died. Would we still be a family? Or were we always destined to be nothing more then lost souls in our castle? Only called a memory. Most often, I remember the words my mother said to me. All those wise words that meant the world to me before, and nothing to me now.

 _All you have is your heart, snowflake, don't let anyone take it from you._

Was your heart worth more than your life mother?

Slash's visits are the only moments of time I receive. When he enters, moonlight or sunlight is cast upon the floor and I know more time has passed. But these moments pass me by swiftly as the red knife wielded by my keeper swings into my view. My screams are not as loud anymore, my throat has been used ragged, but still the sky, night or day, is aware of this horrible arrangement.

There are markings on the walls. Chalk or some sort of other substance that has tallied days. These marks are not my own. And though Ive no idea how this other person managed to keep track of days, I envy her, 'for I gave up before I could even try.

I found in the early days that the boredom alone is maddening. My mind drove me mad, and often I would use my powers as something to occupy me with. I learned soon enough not to do this. So I taught myself to sit still for hours on end. I would focus on the cracks in the floor and the walls, counting each one, sometimes just staring at them. Sometimes I would count my breathes, or simply just stare off into space as if I could make time speed up with the sheer power of mind over matter.

I tend to wander into my thoughts, and the worst nights are when my mind takes me into darkness, and my dreams take me into nightmares and often I wake up screaming, drenched from head to toe in some sort of weird ice sweat that only I seem capable of.

My bed is a pitiful thing, but I spend most of my time in it. Often, Slash will leave our sessions with me unconscious on the floor. Or once, he left me on the steel table for what felt like days, not releasing me until the next time that he came around. Blood stains almost every inch of the floor, and frost non of it. To my fathers credit, Slashs' methods have worked, my powers don't dare show themselves.

Slash's last visit informed me of my greatest fear, and yet my highest hopes. The arrival of my father would mean one of two things. Either he would grant Slash full control over what happens to me, as Im sure Slash has recommended, or he will see the torture that I have endured, and the small part of him that still recognizes me as his daughter will release me from this hell.

I have no idea what to expect.

Now it is dark once again. The candle that Slash left me has burned out completely. With every creak in the floor my mind convinces me of some danger, sending me into shivering fits. But time and time again, it is nothing but that, my mind.

* * *

The steel table against my back feels cold against my skin. I can feel my blood, colder then mosts, dripping down my stomach, down my legs, everywhere. Slash left his knives next to me, maybe to make me fear him more, but I cannot feel anything over pain right now. Once again, a candle burns softly in the corner. Once again, I am alone. This night feels worse then most.

This night feels like hopelessness.

I know I deserve it. I really do. But that doesn't make it much easier to bear. It just keeps me from going mad. The pain makes me remember the pain Ive caused my sister, my mother, even Slash, deserving as he might be. I have to let it burn. I have to let it bleed. I have to let it take everything from me. Only then will I be safe, and not a danger to others.

Once, Slash brought a mirror into the cell. It was a tall, dangerous looking thing. All jagged edges, lacking a frame. He left in in over night. But he had to take it out the next day because I had tried to kill myself with the glass, despite his many warnings not to harm myself. But it was too late, I had seen myself. The image would be forever engraved in my mind. I had seen my face, bloodied and brown, too thin, too pale, but my face was the part most unharmed. I had stripped myself bare, and stood in front of the mirror.

 _This is what a monster looks like._

I had drilled that in my head. Committed my appearance into my mind. A monster. And I had looked like a monster. My arms were sticks, connected simply by muscles that did nothing to make them look healthy. My upper arms were scarlet with bruises, and the insides of my wrists covered in suicide attempts. Covered in blood. My legs looked like those of a bird. I thought they might snap. Truly. The gap between my thighs was at least four inches, and covered all the way down in scars. The skin of my stomach curved inward between my pronounced hip bones, which jutted out awkwardly. My collar bones stuck out and I had to look away. After a minute, I forced myself to look again. To see what I was. A monster. I drilled it into my head for hours and hours, and I know that I will never forget it.

Soon after that I had shattered the mirror, used the glass for awful things. Nightmarish things. Broken things. I don't regret them.

* * *

Slash doesn't mind bloody hands. I think he likes them. He likes power. He loves it when I cower in the corner, struggle in the cuffs he locks me in. He loves my screams, my pleads, as he cuts me open like some sort of animal. His madness does not escape me.

He visits most often in the night. Im not sure why. But he mostly comes when its dark outside. Once, he flipped me onto my stomach and tied me to the table. Seeing his smile while he did his work was horrifying, but it was nothing compared to not being able to see him, only _hear_ him. I could hear his wheezing breath, the clanking of metal as he searched for the right tool.

I don't know what he chose. I don't. I don't want to. I recall the memory painfully, wishing it could be forgotten.

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god." I whisper, clamping my eyes shut. Ignoring the shallow beating of the pain in my chest. Tears scar my cheeks. I shouldn't beg, it never works, but I do anyways. I scream and I struggle, and I fight him with all I have. It will never be enough. I know that now, but back then, I thought he might listen if I made his ears bleed the way he made me bleed. When the blade touches my skin, desperation takes hold. It always does.

"Your sick!" I spit, hoping to distract him. My body tenses, waiting for a whipping or a beating. But nothing comes. I imagine a thoughtful expression on his face. Sometimes he looks human in those silent moments. But I fail to feel compassion for him as he fails to see it for me. Im sure he's a fraud, just some sleepy man dying to get his hands on an innocent little girl. Back then he might have been able to save himself. But now, I know, necromancer or not, that he is insane.

"Aren't we all?" I struggle and drown in tears while he carves into me. _He's carving a design._ I had realized in horror. I am his painting, my back his canvas, my blood the paint. He painted me red wings with his jagged brush. I don't know why he chose wings, folded up onto my back like an angels. I do know that I will never be the angel they wish me to be. But sometimes I trace them with my fingers and imagine that they are real.

I imagine these wings can fly.

* * *

I am sitting against the wall. My hands aching from having to hang in cuffs so long. This time I haven't struggled. I know the metal won't break just as I know that I don't have the strength to break them anymore, or the resolve, to be honest. Suddenly, I hear the neighing of a horse. Immediately I know that someone else is hear, because not once have I ever heard the grey horse of Slashs' ever make any noise, lest it be punished brutally. The pounding of my heart cannot be identified as fear or hope, and I do not have time to identify it, because the door opens to my cell, and I am blinded by sunlight.

I immediately turn away.

When Slash would enter, he would open the door only a slight few inches and fit his bony frame through easily, the sun barely casting light on the floor. This is different, and I cannot look at it for several minutes. When I finally manage, I am sent into a blinking fury, trying to adjust to the sunlight being filtered through the trees. The air that hits me is unexpectedly cold, and though there isn't snow on the ground, something in me shifts, like the winter is shifting. There are two figures in the doorway. One, I cannot see except for a blurry outline. I recognize the shape immediately as my father. He has put on weight, but nothing else has changed. His stance is tall and proud, he stands in front of Slash, who now has re adopted his hunched over stance.

They disgust me so entirely that I feel bile rising in my throat.

"Well don't you look pitiful, Elsa." My father says, stepping into the room farther, and mercifully, Slash shuts the door a tiny bit, but not enough to need a candle. His voice has not changed either, it is cold, and unfeeling. Tasteless. Very different from the blood I still taste in my mouth.

I feel an apology rising to my tongue. I tamp it down. Certainly he would only frown more if I did so. I keep my eyes down turned, and say nothing.

"No hello for your father?" He asks, and steps closer. He wrinkles his nose at the smell and avoids the puddles of blood as best he can. I swallow.

He lifts his boot off the ground and nudges me with it. Careful not get to close. As if I might lash out like some feral dog.

I whimper at the pain it sends shooting up my body. My father turns around to look at Slash. Already losing interest in my appearance.

"Have you fixed her?" He asks, as if Im one of his stallions who refused to bend to his will. And like a stallion, he will love me more when I am broken. _I am, aren't I?_

Faceless, heartless in the dark, Slash shakes his head. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, only fear.

"Im afraid, your majesty, she refuses to listen." _What is he talking about?_ "I will need to use more... drastic measures, your majesty." His words are jumpy and his movements are sharp as he moves closer to my father. He makes sure to keep his back hunched so he doesn't have to look down upon a king.

I inch away, trying to disappear into the wall. They both notice.

"She has made some progress, yes?" He seems empowered from my cowardice, as if he draws strength from it. Him and Slash aren't so different after all.

"Most certainly, your highness, but she will rebel if you take her back to the castle yet." His voice betrays him, he is so clearly lying, and I open my mouth to say as much, but the look he gives me stops me. I clamp my mouth shut as my eyes flash to the knives hanging above me, to the scars on my legs and the bloodied chains that bind me. I will say nothing. _Coward._ My mind whispers, accuses, and I shrink from it too. " I ask you for complete control of her lessons, your majesty." He says, and horrible pictures flash across my mind. Not a word.

"Complete control?" The king says these words as if they taste good on his tongue. Every last ounce of hope I had had for my father flew out the nonexistent window. He loves my pain, wishes he could be inflicting it, perhaps. The walls seem to be closing in on me.

"At your command, your highness." Slash bows for effect, and flinches as the knives concealed in his robes bite into his skin. I flinch along with him, because unlike me, those knives will never draw his blood.

"You know Elsa," My father says. Eyes up and down, liking what they see." You've grown into quite the young woman."

The room chills at his words. Horror and warnings fly into my head. I will not be saved. I cannot be saved.

"Im sorry, Dmitri," The king continues," but I need my daughter to be... untouched for her arrangement." He says, I think, just this once, that I do not completely hate my father.

"Your majesty?" Slash questions, confused.

"Perhaps we should talk elsewhere," The king glances around the room and then looks upon me in discontent and I see boredom in his inhumane eyes. Slash nods and the both of them shuffle out. It occurs to me that this is the first visit Slash has payed me without injuring me in some way. Something about it disturbs me, like something has shifted. For better or for worse?

My fathers visit has left me feeling strangely empty. Something about the way he forced me away left a question in my mind. Made it seem unreal, somehow. The events since then should have been enough to prove that this was in fact real, that this was in fact my fathers doing. But he hadn't said that, and I had hoped, naively, _stupidly_ , that maybe he hadn't been aware of the evil he had sent his daughter to be subject to. And now that he had looked upon my in this state, had seen what had been done to me, it made every aspect of it real. Painfully, undeniably real. My father knew, but he didn't _care._

That night brought no sleep. My eyelids were heavy and my body was trembling from exhaustion and lack of food and water, but my body refused to fade into oblivion. No candle had been left this time, and the chamber was completely pitch black. The creaking and cracking made me flinch, and once I could have sworn the door opened, but nothing happened. I tried to lay down, but the chains binding my hands would not allow me to do so without raising my hands above my head. Outside, rain pitter patters on the roof and expectantly, my loneliness seems to be the weight of the world on my shoulders. I can recall the pain of the knives piercing my skin over and over and over again, my screams piercing the night, tortured enough to draw blood. I know that purity is needed for marriage, but my father wouldn't marry me off. How could he? There isn't an inch of my body unscarred, unbruised, or unbroken. Not an inch of my mind untouched by darkness. No one would want me.

That night, when I finally fell asleep, I ran away in my dreams.

When I woke up, I still felt gone.

* * *

The day promised nothing special. To Anna, that was a challenge. Nothing more then an obstacle getting in her way. She knew she could take it She knew she could make this day one that she would remember forever. In Annas life, she had known pain. The pain of her fathers hits, the pain of her mothers death, loneliness, but over time, all of those had faded into a dull throb in the back of her heart. A place where she knew something was missing, but knew not what it was. Though Anna's heart was so big that she rarely noticed.

It was on these days, sunny, but cold and desolate that she felt those thoughts start to creep in. So Anna occupied herself. Movement was one thing Anna had to have. Small rooms, rainy days, she didn't like those. So when the fun wouldn't find her, she would find it.

Today was golden. Her father was leaving on some one day journey shortly. The servants milled about, but they were discreet. Today was perfect. Anna could feel it in the air that something was going to change. Her heart? She hoped. True love was something Anna had always wanted. Always dreamed of. Her night in shinning armor, her prince in gold and robes, her stable boy in grimy dirt, Anna didn't care. So when she learned of her fathers departure, she decided she would follow him.

This was a challenge. Anna reminded herself. Finding true love had taken seventeen years already. How much longer must she be forced to look? Surely her father would be meeting one hansom young man or another. And it was this hope that vaulted Anna through the hallways looking for her father.

"Father?" She called out, stopping in the great hall. She was about to run by when she heard a reply.

"Anna, is that you?"

"Its me!" She called, running back and into the large room. The walls were lined with paintings of her mother, or just her, or them as a family. _A family._ Anna cherished the memories she carried of her mother, but they caused so much pain, that she preferred not to enter this room. She ignored it though, stepping back to fuss over her fathers buttons, which were characteristically disheveled. He smiled stiffly in the way the princess was used to. He was distant, cold, and only Anna seemed to be able to crack his shell a little.

"Do you have to go?" She whined, putting on her most innocent child face. He fixed her with a stern look, but said nothing about it.

"I won't be gone long. Don't stay up though, honey, a princess requires her sleep." He patted her shoulder and turned. Anna said nothing. Just bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet.

"Whats gotten you all excited, I wonder," The head maid, Gurda, said, a stack of folded blankets covered her face, but Anna could see the motherly disapproval without actually seeing the maids face.

"Nothing too bad," Anna said, moving to follow her father.

"Don't get yourself in trouble, dearie."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Anna said, innocent once again. The moment she turned the corner, the mask was gone. Her father had been hiding things much too long, and Anna wanted to know what they were. She had to.

* * *

Anna followed her father through the woods. Winding farther and farther from any path the princess had ever stumbled upon. Suddenly, Anna had the faintest revelation that she wouldn't lay eyes on any princes today, hansom or otherwise. And though there was disappointment, Anna didn't care, her interests were elsewhere. More certain. Somehow Anna knew that this was a family affair, somehow, she just knew.

A man met her father at the edge of a darker part of the forest. He wore a black robe, surrounded by fog, she could feel the evil of his presence almost immediately. Her interest peaked. She could not hear there voices, but she followed them, watching their movements. Acquainted, but not friendly. On the same terms perhaps?

They walked to a small clearing. In it lies a small dilapidated house. It has several locks on the door. Across from it, a horse with lash marks and downturned eyes stands tied to a tree. A sled and many other odd things surround him. In the distance she can see a small, castle like, house. She feels fear suddenly, and the overwhelming need to turn and run chokes her. She doesn't move. Anna positions herself at the side of the house, not really feeling the need to press herself up against the wall, but doing it anyways. Something about the situation seemed off to her.

Something creaks. Anna jumps in her green, forest green, consequentially, dress.

She couldn't hear their voices, couldn't make out words. And by the end of their conversation, only one thing stuck with her. A name.

"Elsa." Anna didn't realize she'd said it aloud until she saw the two of them step away from the door and look around. Anna covered her mouth despite herself and backed away. Neither of them seemed to have heard her. Outside, as they spoke, Anna could hear them. She tried to concentrate, but as she thought about that name, a violent pain seized her. It pressed Anna back against the wall and she clutched her head.

"Arrangement?" The dark man said. He might as well have been shouting into Anna's ear.

"I have _arranged_ for Elsa to be married to a prince of a neighboring kingdom. Trishold." She didn't dare peek around the corner. But Anna could tell, through hazy pains, from the silence, that tension was building.

"She's not ready." The hunched over man said after the silence.

"She's not going anywhere yet, Dmitri, the marriage won't be occurring until next March. She will leave in January."

"But, your majesty, its October." The dark man, Dmitri, seemed disinclined to acquiesce the kings wishes. Maybe even a little desperate.

"And she better be ready by then, or both of you will pay." The words of the king struck Anna. The fierceness, the emptiness of the words that still left no questions as to whether or not his words would ring true. Anna wondered who this girl could be. A maid? What could a maid have gotten herself into that would cause this. And why wouldn't she just be beheaded. Unless he cared for her, Anna thought, too much to kill. She shook her head, that was unlikely. But if non of these were true. Then who was she?

"Your majesty-" Dmitri began, he seemed to hesitate, change his mind," Then I will need to be permitted to do everything possible to control her."

The king hesitated not one second," You may have your way with her." Anna could imagine a smile growing on the mans face as the king turned away," Your majesty, what about her scars, does her fiancé know about those." He said fiance as if he didn't like the word much.

"He is desperate. That won't be a problem. What will is the magic, make sure she is never able to use it again. I don't care how you do it." Annas mind was full of horrified images and confusion.

"You do not care what happens to her then?" Dmitri says, maybe looking for any doubt, protecting himself," She is your daughter after all."

The king turned fiercely, and the man in black shrunk," I feel nothing for her. The minute she was born I knew what she was. An abomination, a monster. She needed to be killed, but Aidya would not allow it. She is the source of every rift in this family. She needs to be controlled, or I will kill her. And then I will kill you."

The king handed the man a long red dress folded neatly and turned around. Annas shock was almost as much as her anger. _I have a sister?_

I have a sister.

* * *

Slash came back. I knew he would, but I still hoped he'd just leave me. Half starved, half bled out, half dead. It would be simpler that way. But he came back. His face seemed somehow darker. He seemed, distracted as he looked at the knives, as if they wouldn't satisfy him today. Fear that runs deeper then your bones can still be called fear, but it feels like something else, something more. It feels like madness. My fear in this moment is madness. He shuts the door behind him, and the look he gives me is evil, but it is calm. He knows what he's going to do. But what is it that he will do?

"You're to be married in a couple months, Elsa." He says, pulling all the knives out of his cloak. The amount concealed in there is dizzying. I say nothing, I am hardly able to be surprised after so much betrayal. Its not like I care. I can't even bring myself to be excited to get out of this place. Excitement does not come easily to me anymore.

"This man is very generous to be taking you in," He continues, he steps closer to me. I cannot move farther from him. He steps close to me, and as I tense, he drops a key into my cuffs, and unlocks them. Before my arms fall limply to the ground, he grabs them and keeps them pinned above my head.

"What are you-" I begin in a terrified whisper. He shushes me and keeps my arms above my head. He leans down, his nose rubbing my neck. I whimper, and I feel a smile on my skin. His insanity is indescribable. I begin to struggle, kicking out.

He does not move an inch," Do. Not. Move." He says, and his voice contains more venom then I can believe. His lips brush my skin and I feel bile rising in my throat. I swallow it down and fall limp. Scared out of my skin, but frozen in place.

"I am the only one who will ever love you, my dear." He says, and he breaths in as if he likes the blood, sweat, tears, dirt, as long as they cling to my skin. His words bring tears stinging to my eyes. I blink them back furiously. Those words should mean nothing to me. But somehow, they mean everything. My heart refuses to calm down, and for the first time, I realize what he wants.

"No." I say, plead," Please, don't do this. Slash, please." I have never once said his name, not once since I arrived here. His head snaps up and he looks me in the eyes. I can see it there. The preciseness of his madness. The pull of his evil. And I see that he loves me. He loves me in some sick, twisted way that only Slash would be able to justify.

"Undress yourself," He says, his breath is hot on my face, fervent, his eyes caress me, and the rancid smell of it makes me want to gag. I resist, not knowing what will make him break. I shake me head. Looking away, I remember all he has done to me, all the pain and suffering, everything, and suddenly I am desperate to break away from him. This disgusting, vile, horrible creature. I begin to struggle violently. Kicking and biting at his skin. And I feel something break, something bend. And I see white in the corner of my vision. The ice spreading on the walls is the last straw.

The door is unlocked, I can get away. If he catches me, after I just used my powers, God knows what would happen. Slash breaks the hold for two seconds, but its enough, I dart out from under him and towards the doors. His long fingers rap around my ankle, and pull me to the ground. I kick and scream, but he won't release me. Suddenly, he is on top of me, my brown pants are gone, and Slash is smiling horribly.

* * *

Anna has to confront her father, and scurrying to the castle to beat him back, she knows that. A sister? The thought keeps astounding her, horrifying her, confusing her. A head ache comes every time Anna thinks about the strange girl. The girl who is her sister, yet who Anna has never seen. Unknowingly, Anna has found her greatest challenge yet.

* * *

 **Ok. I might have lied. There is one more chapter that will have some... icky substance, but not to worry, Im done after that. I promise. And I just wanted to let you guys know that I have a rather sloppy outline planned for this story, but Im mostly going off my gut. Anything I think will fit, I put in. And Also, many of the quotes in these chapters are inspired by songs. So... I love music, if you have good songs with interesting lyrics, I might just put a version of it in the story. As always, thanks for reading.**

 **-Kennedy**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

 _For Kristof Bjork, rest is_ not a common luxury. The task of his work lasts day and night and though the pay is good, days off can still not be afforded. Today the sky is alight with lightening and the clouds form angry faces in the sky, bursting out random spouts of rain or snow. Under the dense cover of hail, Kristof takes his tools to the ice. The stormy, foot thick layers barely crack, even under Kristofs practiced swing. All around him men whack at the ice, some with perfect form, some working tirelessly away and still getting nowhere. Of all the men, fifteen at best, Kristof is the most seasoned. Unlike most of these men, Kristof loves the job he has been dealt. Ice fascinates him in ways nothing else does. Kristof knows that this is the reason for his appointed position as Ice Master of the kingdom of Corona, a pity job though it may be, as may soon be found out.

Way up north, where snow falls, is where Kristof finds himself most often. Many days astride horses, or in his case, a gruff and friendly reindeer, will take you to the palace, in the heart of Coronas capitol city, Daerenae. Each and everyday, the sun rises, and with it, the ice harvesters. On this day, Kristof and his charges, misfits and outcasts, will ride south east and into the wilds of Norway.

Kristof ties the rope around his last stack of ice, ensuring that it won't come undone after tedious examination, and pats one of the four draft horses that will pull the sled. This sled is one of three others, fifteen long by seven wide. Each stacked with about three hundred blocks of ice. The horses shake their heads and stomp their feet. All of them wear shoes with jagged cylinders sticking out the bottom, this allows them to walk on the ice and get good grips in the snow. Kristof has fashioned his men similar footwear.

His breath is visible in front of him as one of his men, Toren, calls to him, signaling that their sled is ready. The last sled, stalled deep in the snow, is almost ready by the look of it. While the men gear up, Kristof tasks himself with feeding the dogs. Each of them is long furred and giant in size. They all bark, ten in numbers, as Kristof throws several chunks of meat to the ground. A total of three days they've been here, and a total of four it will take them to walk back.

The last call is made, and with the drivers ready to go, the horses set off. Sven leads the head sled, cleverly navigating the steep and sometimes slippery terrain. Two days passed, and as they neared the kingdom, the temperature seemed to rise with every step. Making haste, they arrived within three and a half days, a wonderful time. As was Kristofs job, he oversaw the stabling of the horses, the unpacking of the sleds, and told his men where each block was to go. He had paid them before the trip.

Leaving Sven in his stall, Kristof took off his coat, already sweating, and shook the ice out of shaggy blond hair. He towered over most of the people in the village, not due to his height as much as his muscles, which were toned due to all the work. His next trip would be for a week or so, and in the mean time, Kristof had plans to find other work. Maybe at the butchery, or as an extra nights watchman.

This work came easily to him, as he was in favor of the king, who often put out good words for him. Though perhaps not favor as much as pity, and in this moment, it was pity that could be his advantage. His father, brother of the king, had three sons. One of them bastard born, Kristof. It was a disgrace, and a place Kristof would never wish on anyone. The second he was born, the wife of his father had demanded Kristof be disposed of. He had never been claimed, and his adopted family, peasants, had only told him a few years ago, when he was fifteen. It was a secret that most wished to keep buried, but every soul in the castle knew, and it was clear as the resemblance between him and his father. As was expected, his father nor his fathers wife had wanted anything to do with him after all those years, but in the kings eyes, a son, bastard born or otherwise, was still a son, and the king had always been kind and gracious to him.

As he was exiting the stable, ready to head home and see his mother, a man dressed in Coronian colors approached him. The man was short and slightly pudgy, his hat was lopsided on his head and he looked disheveled as if he'd been searching for Kristof. The man stopped to take a deep breath and coughed.

"Lord Kristof?" He asked, his voice was too high and seemed utterly comedic, but Kristof was too nervous, had he done something wrong?

"Just Kristof, Im afraid," He corrected

"Yes, well, the king wishes to see you. It is most urgent." The man seemed bored and interested at the same time, and he turned, motioning for Kristof to follow.

As Kristof stopped at the gates of the castle, he became suddenly aware of his appearance. He wore northern clothes, big wool pants, a heavy shirt, big boots, covered in god knows what, and a hat pulled down, all brown and damp from melted snow. Here, in the warm and breezy capitol, one would have to explain such clothing choices, but they were accustomed to Kristof and his men and their constantly winter clothing. And as was the custom, life continued around the ice harvester, blooming in every direction. Passing him by, as it often did.

"I received a summons from the king," He said, trying to sound important, probably just sounding nervous.

The man next to him spoke in his high voice," Open the gates."

The guards said nothing, as was their duty, but exchanged wary planes as they pushed the gates open. As he got to court, more people recognized them, and he felt himself reddening under their pitying glazes, _bastard,_ their eyes said accusingly, as if it were his fault. He felt absurdly ashamed and looked once again down at his clothes. He couldn't change them now anymore then he could change his birth parents.

He had memorized the way now, and even with his guard, the castle still seemed vast as he was escorted to the kings private chambers.

The man knocked on the arching doors when they arrived, and the king told them to come in.

The man bowed low, his hat almost falling off. He reached to adjust it as he scurried out the room," You have a -"

"Kristof," The queen said, her eyes were already warm, but he could see them soften with one look at him, pity, he hated the word as much as he hated how it looked on peoples faces. He knew what she saw when she looked at him. She saw a mistake, a meaningless affair a prince had had while his wife sat unassuming in another room. She saw what could have been herself, had she been given to the wrong brother. She saw a mistake by default. " You must be freezing."

"Im fine, your majesty." He said, inclining his head, indicating respect. She stiffened at the name, but made no move to correct him. They were on no familiar terms.

"Kristof," The king said, he seemed surprised, even though he'd called for the ice harvester, he looked up from the book he'd been reading and rose. His eyes were disapproving even as he tried to hide it. Kristof couldn't help but shrink. He was a king, and Kristof felt ashamed for having come in his presence in his state. From the balcony, entered the crown princess, Rapunzel, saving him from humiliation like 3 years ago, before she'd been roped into royal life. She had been home for about three years now, and everyday she seemed to become more of a proper princess, it did not fit her like her wild personality she had, she looked smaller somehow. Her brown hair had grown out and rested just below her shoulders. She wore a dark green corset that dropped into an alternating emerald to pale green skirt. Her sleeves were pale green as well and featured an open shoulder. She danced over to her father and rested a hand on his arm. He shifted to look lovingly down at her. It was a conditional love, Kristof knew she was as trapped as the rest of them, even if it was hidden.

"Kristof, how lovely of you to visit." She said with an uncertain glance at her mother, who nodded and smiled. Kristof shifted uncomfortably.

"Where is Eugene?" He asked, trying to make conversation, hoping to steer the topic to why he was here, stalling, always stalling.

"Off riding with Rickson and Taeyler." She waved her hand whimsically. Bordering on annoyance," He skipped his lessons again today." Kristof couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the girl he once knew. The last time he had seen her had been maybe two years ago, and she had seemed calmer, but not oppressed, certainly not like this. She seemed thinner, more refined, and the brown hair did not suit her anymore. Her eyes were tired and she spoke of Eugene as if he was a burden, not the love of her life. He knew her failure to produce an heir was taxing, but he believed she would power through, like she always had, the sight of her now saddened him. "How was your trip?" The king asked suddenly, casting a glance at Rapunzel, who was staring out the window. He shook his arm and her cheeks reddened. She returned her gaze to Kristof.

"We have delivered the ice to all of the buyers, your majesty, as you asked."

"Goog, good." He slowed," Are you in need of work then?"

 _Yes,_ "I will be leaving again soon, but anything to help, your majesty," He slowed, catching on, and added," and I would be honored to do so."

"Good man." The king said, he smiled, his wrinkles multiplying. His face looked good when he smiled though, kinder," There is an urgent situation in Arendelle."

"Arendelle?" Kristof asked, Arendelle was a kingdom slightly smaller then Corona, ruled by the brother of the queen of Corona. Kristof had heard terrible rumors of the horrors in Arendelle. The wife, murdered in his chambers, a daughter spawned from hell with powers over ice, supposedly killed by a necromancer years ago, and a poor, innocent princess, ruled like a peasant by her father, the cruel and merciless king. He shivered. The north was known to be a terrible place, but Arendelle held the worst of all the rumors.

"We received a letter from the crown princess. Princess Anna, it speaks of a queer event. An event in which the princess followed her father, the king, into the woods. She wrote of him meeting a man, perhaps this necromancer Ive heard tell of, and of a girl the king called the heir to the throne of Arendelle."

He looked at Rapunzel, who was nodding solemnly.

"What does that mean, Kristof?" The queen asked calmly, as if she were speaking to a child. But Krsitof wasn't a child, and he knew exactly what it meant.

"Princess Elsa is alive."

They were all nodding now.

"How is that possible? How could they cover it up for so long? Why?"

"She says that she suspects something terrible is going on, though she doesn't know everything."

"Wait. What does this have to do with me?" Kristof asks, alarm setting in. If the heir to the kingdom of Arendelle was being hidden by a death story and rumors of her evil, then surely the reasons behind it must be good ones. How could he interfere with these royal affairs?

The king and queen exchange a look. Kristof met Rapunzels eyes for a second before looking away. Her eyes were too sad, it was painful to look into them.

"The princess Elsa has been sold into a marriage with the future king of Trishold." The name was familiar, but Kristof couldn't place it, he supposed that didn't matter. " She leaves on January 1." The king glanced around as if prying ears were amongst them, his eyes even flashed to his loyal queen. They never once landed on Rapunzel, but he stepped forward, out of her hold, and he spoke quietly.

"We need you to kidnap her."

* * *

Something was off. Elsa could feel it. The air was still damp, the floor still covered in blood, and Elsa still didn't sleep because when she closed her eyes she remembered the horrible pain of Slash rocking into her. _Again and again and again._ But one day, she suddenly had a sense that the sun was rising. She hadn't slept at all in days, she hadn't eaten her food, and the candle had burned out many moons ago. And yet _still_ she could feel it.

Minutes later, Slash entered, he stalked in wearing his musty robes and smelling of blood and metal and radiating anger. But no shadow was thrown across the floor. Elsa felt cross, she had been certain that it was bright out, she felt something close to emotion creep into her head, she rushed it out. Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show. Something was different, with Slash, with her, with the world.

Slash halted, and he seemed to sniff the air like a predator. Elsa didn't look upon him longer then that, she backed into the corner and clawed at the floor, fear chewing her insides like hunger. His gaze landed on her. The strange, horrible love she had seen in his eyes weeks ago was gone, it was gone because Elsa had screamed that she hated him, that she would never love him one too many times. He was always angry now. Elsa didn't know what to fear more. Love from Slash was almost as bad as hate from him.

His eyes, giving away nothing, taking away everything, sliced across the hot cell. He seemed to still in that moment, his eyes searching every inch of the floor as if he finally figured out that he'd lost his mind and was choosing to look for it on the floor of the cell. Looking upon the girl he'd ruined. He snapped his head this way and that, every movement making Elsa flinch.

"Are you alone?" He asked, there was no smile on his face. He was somber and quiet, as if someone had found his secret hiding spot.

"No," Elsa whispered, no confusion in her voice, she could not make him doubt her.

"DO NOT LIE TO ME YOU MUTT!" He roared, tossing his head this way and that like a grandfather clock. Ticking mad like one, too.

"Im not," Elsa whimpered, scampering back," Im not, Im not, I promise." Her voice sounded weak, Slash sounded certain.

He raised his head into the air again and waved his finger. His eyes landed on Elsa, and as they trailed down to her stomach, both of their eyes got wider.

"Gods save me." Slash whispered, and waved his cloak. Like the wind, he was gone.

She didn't know what to make of it, but she had some idea, and it terrified her.

* * *

In the next month, Slash's visits become fewer. The nights stay long, and the anticipation of his next visit eats away at my insides. He brings me food more often, and I know there only to be one reason for it, he knows. He has to, doesn't he? Slash may be delusional, but he's not blind. He gives me enough to feed myself, and a little extra, and still, my weigh drops, steadily making me a living skeleton. I can see the bones of my knees poking out when I pull them up, and I can sink my hand in between my collar bones and shoulders. My stomach grows still, a demon, or normal, I do not care, he is mine, and I will protect him.

Many many days pass, and Slash stops by only to give me food. The lack of his presence should seem like a blessing, but instead, I feel as though dark clouds are gathering, waiting for the right moment, and at that time, lightening will strike. This sets me on edge. I do not sleep, for my nightmares chase me out of it, I yearn to reach for one of the knives, my insides beg, beg, beg for me to do it, but I cannot, I will survive for my child. For my child.

As absurd as it sounds in my head, I keep myself busy thinking of names. In my minds eye, he is a boy, but I don't care in reality. This child has not only given me something to live for, its giving me something to hope for. It makes me think that even I, an utter failure, can give something life. It gives me a purpose, something I haven't had in years.

One night, when my stomach has grown to a decent size, the heavens finally break, and rain down. I have a dark feeling inside of me, and it won't let me catch a wink of sleep. I don't eat that night, fearing that Slash has poisoned the water or spiked it, hoping to wipe me out and have his way with me while I sleep. My fatigue has set in over the past week, and even moving from my bed to the floor is challenging, and when one of the scars reopens on my calf, I cannot even press my hand against. My stomach has swelled, and even my limited knowledge of pregnancy tells me that the baby should not be growing this fast. It occurs to me that it must be because of my powers and Slash's supposed necromancy. I realize I have no idea what will come out of me in a few moths, or weeks by the look of it.

Storms rage and the winds blow for what seems like hours, and my jittery nerves jump at every strike. It must be three in the morning when I hear the locks on my door opening. Slash hasn't come in this late for many moons, and I feel fear seep into my veins. For my son, a steely voice whispers into my mind. I struggle to my feet while he struggles with the many locks, and hobble across the room, grabbing a knife. The handle is slippery with sweat and when Slash's form finally appears inside the door frame, I feel like a turtle trying to kill a viper. Slash grabs my wrist and shoves me to the floor. I twist, trying not to land on my stomach. I crash down and let out a cry of pain, holding my hand over my lifeline.

"You feel sympathy for the little demon." Slash plucks the knife from my grip and smiles, his mouth weaving around his dagger teeth. My determination makes me brave, and I make an animal like snarl. He only continues to sneer as he slaps me across the face. I had been so busy in my protectiveness, that I had managed to forget my fear of Slash. He notices too, because as I shift to the offensive, he snickers vilely.

"Your father won't be happy if he learns of your..." His eyes shift to my stomach for an infinite moment, he looks disgusted," state."

You did this. I want to snarl, but I stay silent like an obedient child having had one too many beatings. I hate myself almost as much as I hate him in that moment. He steps around a dried puddle of blood and grabs the table, he shifts it to his liking and examines the knife. My blood drains as the color leaves my face, he will cut me again, he will carve into me again and again to make up for lost time. I feel like a child again, tears rimming my eyes.

"Please," I whimper," Please, no, no, the child." I say, and his eyes cut right through me, he tries to use a grim face, but I can see the way his eyes dance, and a smile breaks through.

"Ah, the child," He says, as if he believes its anything but," My dear, innocent Elsa, this is all about that... thing."

I wonder what he means before I have the sense to back away.

"Come on now Elsa, I haven't got all day." His yellow claws trace a trail on my skin and he pulls me into his arms. I can only cry silently and pull my arms around my stomach. He lays me on the table and straps me in. I can see how much he's missed this. He binds me so tightly that I feel the circulation cut off. I close my eyes, trying to convince myself that its fine, he's done this so many times before, surely he can do it once more. And to my disgust, when he grabs the knife, I feel a wave of eagerness, and when it touches as my skin, I have to hold back a hum of pleasure.

Until I notice where he's put the blade down.

My stomach.

My eyes fly open and I see he's staring at my face, his eyes full of evil.

"Tell me when your ready, _princess."_ His hands shake with eagerness, I feel desperation seize me.

"NO!" I rage, thrashing against the bonds," NOOO! SLASH, HE'S A CHILD! PLEASE DONT DO THIS, SLASH, SLASH, please." I don't stop struggling, and soon my words fade into incomprehensible sobs.

"For the love of god Elsa," Slash says, he doesn't look angry, or sad, just resolute, taking on his teacher face." When will you understand, you are a monster, and you deserve all the pain Ive given you and more."

I choke on my sobs, but I have to make him understand, even if, deep down, I know its futile," Not him, he's just a child, he doesn't deserve-" The knife begins to draw blood," SLASH! Stop, _please_ , Ill do anything, _anything_ anything anything anything. Oh god oh god oh god..." I trail off and my limbs fall limp. Why did I give myself hope? Why did I ever think I could have a child? So so stupid Elsa. I close my eyes, ashamed that he's seen my tears, and lean my head to the side.

"Watch Elsa," He whispers to me, pulling the knife slightly out, pulling my chin up. Sometimes he is unstable, but making me _watch_ , these moments are the ones that assure me he has no humanity in him.

* * *

 **Well. This chapter has kind of explored the darkness of my mind, Slashs and Elsas. And I admit my hands are kind of shaking after writing this, but that won't stop me. Im gonna continue into the next chapter with more hope and resolution for good things to happen. And as you learned, we have an escape plan. I can promise that more darkness will follow, but I can say that it probably won't be as dark as this. And if any of you guys think that I should change my story to M, please tell me! I don't want to be scarring anyone for life.**

 **And now, I have a question for everyone. I will be introducing a very important character in the next few chapters, and I want to know if it would be best for the story if I introduce him now while he doesn't know Elsa, or if I should wait until Elsa meets him. I also would like to know what person I should narrate him in. As you've most likely noticed, the only person I do in first person is Elsa, and sometimes I even do her in third person. Should I switch, use third, or first with him? Leave comments please :)**

 **And in closing, thanks for reading!**

 **-Kennedy**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

 **Here we go! Big chapter guys! Buckle up, and enjoy the ride...**

* * *

 _Annas eyes blinked open._ An unfamiliar blue painted bedroom came into focus. Anna jumped before remembering where she was. _Corona,_ she thought, _safe and sound._ Staying in the castle, so close to her father, had made the princess anxious and unable to sleep. The whimpers of that girl, her sister, kept plaguing her mind and Anna couldn't fathom how her father could do such a thing. She seemed to be in a permanent state of shock. It just didn't seem real. Even after reading the letter from the Queen of Corona, Anna's aunt, that they would be getting Elsa out in less then two weeks. It still hadn't seemed real.

But Anna has shook her head, reforged her will, and convinced her father to send her _alone_ to Corona to visit the family. He had readily excepted, probably hoping it would be easier to slip out and visit Elsa without another daughter. The trip from Arendelle to Corona had taken seven days, but it might as well have been an eternity with her busy mind.

When she had arrived, she'd gotten some sarcastic flirty comments from Eugene, a totally un Rapunzel wave, and hugs from the king and queen. It hadn't slipped Annas sharp eye that a blond man, who'd introduced himself as Kristof, was undeniably attractive and adorable. It wasn't above Anna to flirt, and she did so relentlessly. It was father coy of her, Eugene pointed out one evening over the wine. Annas cheeks had been as rose as her bubbly drink, which she had never been allowed back at home... the castle. But they didn't need to know that.

Anna hadn't visited for quite a few years, and as excited as she was, Anna couldn't ignore the hollow feeling in her belly. She got headaches more and more often, a piercing pain every time Elsa or the rescue entered her mind. She took it as a bad omen, superstitious as she wasn't.

Anna couldn't wait to see her sister- it was true. But if the pain had occured without actually seeing her sister, then what would it feel like to actually look at her? Anna didn't know. But it became a thought she often had. Why did she even get these headaches. What had happened in the castle all of these years that was so horrible that Elsa had to be taken away. Why had Anna forgotten her... why had their mother died.

She had an aching feeling that everything was connected. Horribly, undeniably connected.

* * *

 _I felt like I was swimming in my brain. So calm, devastatingly calm. I swam through pictures, scenes of my life, but I wasn't connected. It felt so dreamlike. I couldn't feel anything, just numbness. I was floating through doors and feeling like I should be dizzy when I happened upon a memory that made me stop._

 _Quiet, everything was quiet. A girl was in the corner. Blonde haired and clutching her knees, dealing with the aftermath of uncontrollable sobs. Shaking. It shook my body too, powerful shaking. A panic attack? It was me. Like all the other memories, but this one seemed fresher. Darker, above all. There was an eerie glow from a fresh candle and when I stood on shaky legs, there was a huge, nasty scar across my belly. Deeper then the rest, fresher, triggering. I remembered everything that had happened, but still I drifted in the dream like some shadowy angel, watching, but unseen._

 _Necromancy had fixed that. I was sure. A cut like that would have bleed a person dry. But magic had fixed it, made it not look so bad. It would always be there though, I would always feel it. The candle looked to be only a few hours old, Slash shouldn't be coming back, so why was I here?_

 _The locks rattled. I would have flinched, but I couldn't move, so the other Elsa did it for me. She flinched at the ground and backed into a shadowed corner. Slash was carrying a child in this dream. A dead, covered in blood little baby. But the other Elsa didn't move. What is this? I looked back up and the baby was gone, replaced with a rusty knife. Slash moved, or more like glided over to the dream me. His usually stalking footsteps gone. He seemed to be floating with invisible wings._

 _The edges of the room blurred, sharpening what was happening. Suddenly, they were in the center of the room, making my view clear._

 _"You will be leaving soon." Slash croons, his voice is feathery light like that of an angel, but his mouth is full of blood. The chains bound to my_ _imaginary wrists are tugging, pulling me back to the corner. She tries to jerk away, but Slash grabs her hair and pulls down, forcing her eyes to meet his._

 _"You have been bad." He glances down at her wrists, fresh with cuts that she wished had been deeper. Deep enough. "Those will scar." He notes, and shakes his head as if to say ' what a pity'. This Elsa does not move. When he lets go, she pulls her chin down and stares at the ground._

 _"Perhaps I will leave a mark of my own." He says, he tips her chin up and levels the knife to her- my- chest. This Elsa does not scream, move, flinch, as Slash drives the knife deep into the skin between her protruding collarbones. When he is done, I finally notice the tears slipping out of her eyes, they are clamped shut. I wish I could clamp these numb eyes shut. I wish I could forget the bloody S that will be forever engraved on her chest._

 _"To remember me love," He says, and grabs her around the waist, he pulls her against her chains, surely drawing blood. And kisses her fiercely. When he pulls back, the blood from his mouth is in hers. The girl in front of me falls on the chains and wretches onto the floor. Feeling is returning to me. I want to vomit, to faint, anything to forget this._

I wake up screaming from the dream. Covered in sweat and blood and dirt. My panting doesn't slow. I want to forget it all, everything that has ever happened to me.

I feel my chin tipping. My eyes shifting down, and a shiver passes through me as I see the bloody letter carved into my skin. I feel his hands on me, his vile tongue in my mouth, the scar on my stomach. The feeling of the world, _the will to live_ , crushed out of me when Slash put that knife over my stomach.

I cannot forget.

* * *

Two weeks flew by as I drowned in my never ending dread and fear of what was to come. Slash took every chance to terrify me about the prince and his mysterious kingdom. My father visited many times, but he never once came in. I didn't hope for affection, I wasn't that foolish, but if he had at least said good bye...

Slash uses burning knives a lot now. He's trying to get some sort of reaction from me, I know it. I just can't bring myself to struggle or cry out when he cuts me or burns me or hangs me from my wrists. My strength is beginning to run out, with no food and water for days at a time, I know my systems will fail soon. Maybe Slash wants me to die before they can take me away.

On the day of my departure, Slash comes to me with a dress and some bread and meat and water, more then Ive had in years. My stomach convulses painfully, but I won't move.

"Come now Elsa," He breaths, sounding annoyed, I know that he hates how I don't react anymore. But my mind is run rampant with awful awful things. Anna, my mother, my _son_. It hurst so much. "Eat and then get dressed, the door will be unlocked." My head jerks up at that and I can see by the tilting of his head that Slash is surprised. He says nothing, however, and vanishes into thin air.

I crawl over to the food and gulp down the bread and water, the meat looks disgusting, but I eat some of it anyways. I can feel strength coming into me and a headache that Ive had for days clearing. He has also dropped a bucket of water and a towel on the floor, for me to wash myself? I try to lift the bucket over my head, but my arms shake so badly from the effort that I end up dipping the towel in and rubbing it on myself. I cannot do this, i cannot do this, icannotdothis. Its true, I don't think I can, but inside me, I feel a reawakening, a clawing, stretching power that will not be defied. Its coming back! My mind shouts in horror. Nonononono. I force this lightness down and drown myself in the hauntings inside. It works. This must be what controlling my powers feels like.

I strip out of my barley decent clothes and into a pale pink dress. Will this prince let me live in peace? Or will it be as Slash has promised? Maybe it should be, after everything Ive done, what I am, do I even deserve to survive? I look down at myself, the dress is tiny, but still it sags on my skeletal body. I stumble to the table and grab a metal knife. I place two small cuts on my wrist, for courage. It is bloody and rusted, but I shove it into the back of my dress all the same. I feel fatigue setting in as my legs begin to quiver. I force a deep breath and move towards the door. It is hard and cold, it stings to touch it, and I wince. My fingertips travel to the handle, and I pull. The door creaks and moans, but it slides open. My breath whooshes out of me. Its open. Im leaving. But there is no joy in this revelation. Outside, there is a low set fog and the ground is damp on my bare feet. The air is thick and heavy but still, it smells fresh and I inhale mercilessly. Feel something, I implore my heart, beg even, but all I feel is the grass under my feet and the bitting wind of an Arendelle winter. No relief, no joy, nothing. It is as I remember it, except the horse is gone, replaced by a younger, darker one. His eyes whisper for help, but he doesn't move. He is me, and maybe years ago I would have helped him, but now, I turn my head away and find myself looking at a carriage. It is beautiful and haunting at the same time. White featuring dark purple swirls with almost a temple like feeling. Slash and another man are standing by it. This man is short and sweating bullets while he stands a good five feet away from Slash. As I near I can hear them murmuring. Watch her... unstable... dangerous.

Slash finally notices me and the driver runs off to the front of the carriage, where two horses stomp their hooves nervously. I can see their breath from here. I can sense their fear, I am coated in it. He snares me with his possessively terrifying eyes and I see the anger in them.

"You won't survive this," He tells me," Its true."

I push his voice away, he is flesh and bones and a beating heart but he is not human, and I am so close to falling again. So so close and I don't now what will happen if I do. He hooks a mangled arm around my waist and pulls me in. His body is crushed against mine and I lean my face back, turn away, I might faint. He puts a long fingernail on the branding he gave me and traces the S slowly. He presses so hard that it draws blood, it feels like relief. I fear Slash, but I do not fear this pain anymore. I think that the only way to hurt me now is emotionally.

"You are mine," He growls in a throaty, barf inducing voice," And you will be once more." He releases me and I stumble back. Looking once more to the carriage I take a step.

"Oh, and Elsa?" He calls, I can't turn around again, but I listen," Hold the winter in. 'For if you don't, it will be the death of you."

Its a warning, Im sure of it. But I won't let Slash touch me ever again. I feel the knife at my back, the scar across my chest, the empty place in my arms where my son should be, and I know I have to make it so. Even if the sky will clear once we leave this forest, even if my betrothed isn't evil, even if I could forgive myself, Slash would find me. And he would shatter me. I could try to fix myself, try to be more then the pieces he's left me with. But it would all amount to nothing, because Slash loves me, and he would find me. This will be my last day, it has to be.

* * *

 _The carriage ride_ is bumpy and loud but when we break through the tree line I can see the sky. I know that at some point I begin to cry. This could be the beginning of something good. But it could also be something bad. I won't risk it. I won't. But maybe if I just watch the sky for a while Ill become numb, and it will be easier. The driver kept telling me to shut up, telling me that the tears would ruin my pretty face. He kept spitting horrid words and yelling at me to say something back. I was quiet, but I wasn't blind, he was nervous, and he was jittery. Somehow that sealed the deal. If he was nervous to get to wherever we are going, then I don't want to be there.

I am unwound in those hours. I have spent my years in torture and silence, waiting to die so that I could be set free. But still, it is the sunshine that is my undoing. It is the villages we pass and the children that laugh and play while so blissfully unaware that today, a girl whose been on the edge of oblivion for years, will finally taste the stars. I remember the secrets and the locks on doors before I went to the dark place. I remember Anna and how she used to smile at me because she didn't know I was a monster. I think of my mother, how she gave up so easily, how I kept suffering. My thoughts are collected for the first time in years. My mind feels less clouded.

The man shouts back to me that we are only a few more hours out as we trot across a field of flowers. I can see the sounds Ive been hearing for years. Birds, the wind, the sky, freedom. And this, is how I die.

Ive died before, but it felt different then, perhaps because my heart killed me, or the monsters in my head. This is real. And as I slit my arm straight up, almost to the bone, I don't make a sound. My powers coat the seat and I swim in tears. It feels so good to finally give up. So good to...

* * *

If I hadn't heard the neighing and shouting, I might have never found the princess. Sven and I were galloping across fields and thought forests and across rivers. I was following the map the best I could, when I realized Id gone slightly off course. Nothing too bad, but bad enough that they might have passed me. I thought I had failed when I heard a displeasured neigh from a horse. I hopped from the sled and stepped into the grass, staying low to avoid being seen. Pulled off the side of a dirt road was a carriage. There was a man leaning inside the open door and I had a feeling- a sick feeling- that something was wrong.

The man was howling and making all sorts of weird noises and I got the sense that he was crying. But I picked up a near by rock all the same and swung hard and fast. He was out cold, falling down the carriage steps. I dropped the rock and tried not to notice the dent in his head. Kicking his body away, I leaned inside the carriage. The seats were covered in ice and blood. And in the back was a skeleton. A girl. She was passed out it seemed. She was hard to look at, in her state. Scars covered every inch of her and her bones were sticking out, treating to break hr paper skin. Her mouth was slightly open, but her face looked at peace. What must she have gone through to want to end her life? I reached in, ignoring the horrible smell and checked to see if there was a pulse. Please please please. I feel a slight beating under my fingers and pull her out. She weighs nothing.

I step around the mans body and walk back to Sven. There is still blood leaking from her wrist, and after I set her down, I grab one of the blankets and wrap it tightly around her arm. I know it won't do much, and she might not survive the trip back, but I do it anyway, and cover her up with many blankets and coats, and mushing Sven into a solid gallop, run over the snow and ice, racing the grim reaper and the devils that will surely follow our journey.

* * *

"Where is she?!" Anna demands, frustrated and maddened because its her sister, not anybody elses. She shoves her way past the king and queen to see Kristof break through a small crowd of people. As he entered the castle, the doors were shut behind him, and he seemed to stiffen. Anna stopped next to Rapunzel, too scared to go any farther.

"She needs the doctor." He says, his voice is urgent and he sounds worried.

"Whats wrong?" The king says, he steps up to her and his face pales ever so slightly. _It must be bad,_ Anna thinks. Her mind is recovering when Rapunzel steps up to se her, and before Anna can comprehend whats going on, the princess trust around and wretches the ground.

"Rapunzel," The queen blurts out, but she only sounds surprised.

"Im sorry," Rapunzel says, her wide eyes turning to the blanket Kristof holds, and she runs from the room.

They are all crowded around her now, waiting for the doctor to come because Kristof refuses to move any farther. Anna cannot find her courage, she is frozen to the spot, unable to see the princess, but unwilling to look away.

"Anna..." Flynn says, and he sounds almost apologetic." You don't want to-"

"Stop" Anna says, and finally she steps forward. They all part for her to see her sister, but they stay close, like they are prepared to catch her when she falls. Anna takes one final breath, and looks down at her sister. The ghostly state of Elsa is not what sends Anna tumbling to the ground, but the extreme pain that pierces her body when she glances at her.

"Anna!" Flynn gasps, and leans down next to her. Anna just clutches her head and rocks back and forth, clenching her teeth down so hard it hurts." Anna whats wrong?"

Anna cannot speak, cannot even move, and when she recalls the memory of seeing her sister just moments before, the world goes black, and the pain fades.

* * *

There is a low thrumming in my head that turns into a screeching. Sending me swimming for a shore that I cannot find. Im so desperate, so very desperate to find it. In the end I realize that it must be death because I am moments away from touching it when I come to life.

I bolt up, gasping and sweating, and come face to face with a room Ive never seen before. I place my hands on my head as the screeching becomes numbness, and I realize it must be the light. The light in this room is so bright. Is this my new prison?

"Elsa?" A soft voice says, and it sends a small shockwave through my brain. It is not male, but female, soft, tentative. I turn my head to see an unfamiliar face staring down at me. I tense, she's close, why is she so close? The woman must notice my discomfort because she shifts her chair a few feet away and sighs when I still don't relax. "Do you know who I am?" I can't answer " Do you know where you are?" I can't move " Do you know what happened?" I can't breath. Who is she? What does she want? She's not holding a knife but there are sharp objects across the room. She would get to them before me, I know it.

Where is my knife? My knife, the one I stole from Slash, the one I used to- my eyes slip down to my arm. There is a vertical slash traveling up my vein and I know it should have killed me. There are stitches stopping the bleeding. Who did this?

The door opens, and a tall, brown haired man walks in," Is she aw-" He trails off when he sees me. He's standing by this tools, staring at me with his eyes and he's not blinking. He picks up one of the tools and continues toward me. No. No no no no no no.

"Im just going to-" He begins, but I don't hear the rest. I can feel a build up in the lungs, tears stinging my eyes and i can't stop the fall.

"Please," I say, my voice shaking and he stops, why does he stop?" Please don't hurt me."

"Hurt you?" He says, tilting his head. He's playing games.

"Elsa-" The woman says, she moves a hand toward me.

"Don't touch me!" I yell, my heart turning over. I deserve it, I whisper to myself, but I remember how much it hurts to be cut open. I look down at the scars. They saved me so that they could torture me again. They are as cruel as Slash, they will not touch me." Please just don't touch me-" He keeps coming closer, closer with his sharp tools and evil eyes. I begin to shake. I have to get out, the door is open if I could just- He's saying something now, dropping the tool. Putting his hands out, he's not going to cut me, then that must mean- I remember Slashs words, _" I ask for complete control over her lessons, your majesty."_ Not again, no, nonononononono.

Suddenly I am on the floor, I can't see through my tears, but I know he must be close now. I back away, I back away until there is a wall behind me and I pull my knees to my chest. "Please don't hurt me! I deserve it but- but" My words become incoherent and I feel something warm trickling down my leg. A cut must have reopened. Good, let it bleed until there is more of my blood on the floor then inside of me. I feel a sharp prick in my arm and I start to fade. Fading and fading until I remember only the bright light from the window.


End file.
